Thie Duke
by K-Lie
Summary: Christian becomes jealous of Satine and the Duke, and a fight between the two lovers occur. Oh, and the title is /not/ a typo. :)


Author's Note - I own nothing! Baz owns everything Moulin Rouge, and N SYNC own the song 'Selfish'. So I own nothing! I know. Christian is a little out of character here. I liked the scenario, and I tried to make it seem like something Christian would do. Think the Opening night of Spectacular Spectacular. We saw his anger and jealousy, no? Well, this is him now. It's sometime between their first meeting in the Red Room and before Opening Night. There's no specific date.  
  
Thie Duke  
  
Christian sat in his garret, trying to hide his disappointment at being alone. It was getting late; the sun had set hours ago, and still Satine hadn't shown up. The poet sat on his bed, staring out the window at the village of Monmartre. He couldn't help but feel the bits of jealousy creep into his soul. 'Out with the Duke. She's out with the Duke. Letting him watch her. Kiss her. Touch her.' He grunts, trying to sort through his feelings. He wouldn't get jealous. He promised her he wouldn't.  
  
Rising from the spot he'd been glued to for the past two hours, he moved into the kitchen. 'Well, if Satine isn't going to come and eat this fabulous meal I made her. Er, Toulouse made her. Then I'll eat it alone.' Taking out the plate with the cold chicken on it, he sighed. Who was he kidding? He wasn't hungry. He didn't want to eat; Not without Satine there, eating with him.  
  
He wouldn't be jealous. No, not jealous. Still, he couldn't help the anger boiling inside of him. This certainly wasn't like him. Normally, he was so understanding. He normally didn't allow himself to grow so angry. Shaking his head, he flung the plate of chicken across the room, where it met the wall. "Damn you, Satine. Damn you!" he yelled to himself, unable to keep the hurt, angry emotions inside. She should be here, with someone who loves her. Not with the Duke, who could care less.  
  
Suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, came Toulouse's drunken lisp. "Chwistian? Is evewything awight? I heawd a cwash."  
  
Toulouse was suddenly in the doorway to his garret, glancing around and immediately noticing that someone was missing. "Whewe's Mademoisewwe Satine?"  
  
"She's not here, Toulouse! Isn't that obvious??? Huh? She's out with Him! She's out with that idiot!" Christian slams his fist against the wall, before pressing his forehead against it, feeling the tears inevitably coming. "She's not here. She'd rather be with him." Toulouse, understanding completely what he's going through, moves over to Christian, and pats his leg, trying to be comforting.  
  
"Oh, Chwistian, you know she woves you. She has to go with the Duke. But she'd wather be with you. I know that she does. You do, too."  
  
"No. No, she doesn't. She wants to be with him. Well, she can be with him! If she'd rather stay with him, who am I to stop her?" He suddenly yells, turning away. "I need some absinthe," he mumbles, already on his way up towards Toulouse's apartment.  
  
"Chwistian, I don't have -"  
  
"Don't lie to me, Toulouse. I know you have some. And I'm gonna have some, too!"  
  
  
  
An hour later, Christian was on his way back to his apartment, angrier than ever; And this time, drunk, too. The absinthe had a different effect than normally; Instead of letting him forget about his troubles, the Green Fairy just made him hurt worse. Opening the door to his apartment, he stumbles in, neary colliding with Satine.  
  
"Christian!" She greets, standing right near the door. She'd obviously just arrived, since she had not yet shed her coat. She pauses a moment, staring at him. "You've been drinking?"  
  
Christian's mind takes a moment to register who she is, but once it does, he just smiles at her. "Yeeep, that's what I've been doin'. Drinkin'. But what do you care, huh?" He shrugs, shuffling into his room and swaying a bit. "So, have fun with your dear Dukey? Wait, what am I talkin' 'bout, 'course ya did. Did you sleep with him yet, hmmm?" Satine stares at him, shocked. Her Christian was talking like this? No. No, he'd never say anything like that. "Christian, what's that supposed to mean? Huh? You know I didn't want to-"  
  
"No, no, no. I know no such thing." He drawls on, his words slurring some. "How do I know that you didn't enjoy it? Do you think I dun' realize what you are? Yeah, I know what you are. You're a whore. I know that. I fell in love with a whore and now I'm mad 'cuz she's screwin' other guys."  
  
Satine gulps down a breath, struggling to keep standing. "Christian?" She's clearly deeply hurt by his words. Did he just call her a whore? Her poet? "No. no. What's wrong with you? How can you say that to me?" She feels the tears threatening to come into view, and she fights to hide them. "I thought. I thought you realized I was more than that! I thought you l-lo- loved me." She breaks into sobs, as the full realization begins to sink in. Her beloved poet called her a whore. Normally, that kind of thing didn't bother her; Well, it is what she is. But from the one person that made her feel like more than that? That hurt.  
  
Christian shrugged, in this state unable to see how she was hurting. He didn't bother to respond, and instead moves towards her, arms open, expecting a kiss.  
  
She immediately pushes him away, angry. "Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!" Turning to leave, she hears him begin to gag, and she winces. She knows what's coming. Practically leaping the few feet she had towards the wall, she managed to escape the vomit that came spewing from the drunk. And right after, she heard the thud, signaling that he'd passed out.  
  
  
  
The sun began to rise, helping to light Christian's garret. Lying on the floor next to his bed was Christian, sleeping on a small pallet that had been made out of his bed sheets. The room was completely spotless; the vomit from the carpet had been scrubbed away, and the plate that the chicken had once contained had been picked up, piece by piece, and had been disposed of.  
  
As Christian began to come to, memories of the night before filled his mind. 'Oh god.' He groans, praying it was a bad dream, but he knows it wasn't. 'Great job, Chris. Just go and ruin your relationship with the woman you love because you got jealous and drunk.' Sighing, he takes a moment to realize that he's on the floor. Noticing the sheets, he sighs. Toulouse had come. Well, bless the poor gnome.  
  
Hearing the bed next to him squeak, he sighs. Well, he better get up, and think of ways to apologize to Satine. Struggling up, he expects to see Toulouse on his bed. However, he's met with the image of Satine on the sheet-less bed, wearing one of Christian's shirts and shivering. Christian feels a warm rush of relief. She's here. She didn't leave him. He still has a chance at making it up to her. Still a little dizzy from the heavy drinking the night before, he manages to cover his love with a blanket. Then, he immediately turns to his typewriter. He'll have to write her something. So she'll forgive him. He hopes.  
  
  
  
An hour later, Christian yanks the paper from the typewriter, pleased with his work. He managed to write a beautiful song, despite the pounding in his head and the ache in his heart. Moving towards the bed, he notices Satine begin to wake, and he braces himself to get yelled at. But, he deserves it. As she opens her eyes, he's the first thing she sees.  
  
"Good morning." He whispers softly, reaching over to gently tuck her fiery red locks of hair behind her ear. "Christian?" She questions, rubbing at her eyes sleepily.  
  
"Yes, darling. It's me."  
  
At this, she seems to snap to attention, and practically growls. "Don't 'darling' me! Do you know what you put me through last night! Do you remember what you said to me??? Don't think I'm going to let this slide! You called me a w- You called me a." She can't even manage to say it and just shakes her head. "And then you nearly threw up on me, then you passed out! I had to drag you! And you should've seen me trying to lift you to put you in bed! I nearly injured my back before deciding to keep you on the floor! You put me through hell last night, Christian!!!"  
  
"Satine. Sweetie. I know. I'm so sorry." Taking her hand, he sits down on the edge of his head, and begins to sing his song to her.  
  
"You can call me selfish, But all I want is your love. You can call me hopeless, baby, Because I'm hopelessly in love. You can call me unperfect. But who's perfect?  
  
Tell me what I gotta do, To prove that I'm the only one for you. So what's wrong with being selfish?"  
  
Christian drones off, waiting for her reaction. "There's more. I wrote it down. I. Satine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything I said last night. I was upset when you hadn't come back yet like you said you would. And I let myself get jealous. And I got angry. I'm so sorry. Then I made Toulouse give me something to drink. I know it's not your fault that He kept you out. But I wanted to blame you, to try and make myself feel better, but it only hurt worse. I."  
  
"Shhh, Christian. It's alright. You hurt me a lot last night. But I understand. I tried to get out of it. Really, I did. But he wouldn't let me out of it. I'm sorry, baby." Christian allows himself a brief smile, before double checking. "So you forgive me?" Satine laughs softly to herself, before nodding. "Always."  
  
With Christian moving in for a kiss, they fall together on the bed, kissing and cuddling. "Wanna know something funny, Chris?"  
  
"What's that?" Christian asks, nibbling at her ear.  
  
"His first name really is Thie! His real name really is Thie Duke!"  
  
Giggles erupt from the couple, followed by Satine's screams for help as Christian begins tickling her. From up above, Toulouse smiles, able to hear the lovers' laughter.  
  
"The magicaw sitaw that can onwy speak the twuth says.. The Gweatest Thing You'ww Evew Weawn Is Just To Wove And Be Woved In Wetuwn."  
  
  
  
Well? Yes? No? Lem'me know, please! 


End file.
